


all the wolves have antlers

by bythunder



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:23:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13118898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder
Summary: Stags are prey, Lyanna thought. Why would anyone want to be a stag over a direwolf? When Father came to escort her to the sept, she draped her maiden’s cloak over her shoulders and held her chin high. Wolves eat stags. I will not be made prey.





	all the wolves have antlers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ayuminb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayuminb/gifts).



> AU where there was no Tourney of Harrenhal, which means Lyanna never ran away with Rhaegar.

The wedding was the first and last time she would wear a stag, Lyanna decided. She had tried everything she could think of to get herself out of this marriage. She’d begged and pleaded, stormed and raged, but Father was unmoving in his decision. She tried to appeal to Ned, but he wouldn’t hear a bad word about his foster brother. It was sweet, how he tried to appease her worries, Ned was always sweet, but it didn’t make her any more agreeable to this match. Three moons before they were due to leave for Storm’s End for the wedding, Lyanna went to extreme measures. In the dark of the night, she stole some of Benjen’s clothes and packed a bag, planning to take a her horse and ride to… Well, she hadn’t decided where she would ride to. Anywhere but _Storm’s End._ She had only made it about half a day from Winterfell before Brandon came upon her and brought her back to face Father’s ire. There was no more fighting to be done after that.

Lyanna sat in the Lady’s chambers in Storm’s End, the rooms that would be hers after tonight, and looked about. She was surrounded by stags. On the wall hung hunting tapestries, majestic bucks in green grass fields. Across the bed, prancing harts were embroidered on all the pillows and along the bedclothes. Even out the window, the sight of the Baratheon banners flapping gracelessly in the wind. _Stags are prey,_ Lyanna thought. _Why would anyone want to be a stag over a direwolf?_ When Father came to escort her to the sept, she draped her maiden’s cloak over her shoulders and held her chin high. _Wolves eat stags. I will not be made prey._

 

+

 

As a wedding gift, Robert had presented her with a box full of fine jewelry. Some had belonged to his late mother, he told her, but a fair number he had commissioned for the new Lady of Storm’s End. A gold necklace with stones as black as night, a brooch fashioned with the likeness of a doe, a hairnet with pins like antlers… All lovely pieces befitting _Lady_ _Baratheon_. Lyanna thanked him through clenched teeth but as soon as he’d left her chambers, she stuffed the jewelry box in the back of a drawer, buried under her stockings. She wouldn’t wear a single piece of it. Not when she still had the sterling direwolf pendant that suited her much better.

And that is to say nothing of the gowns in her wardrobe. All silly southron things, cut too low and made of silk that tore too easily. She couldn’t ride in them for the impossible volume of the skirts, and the sleeves too long. Even simple tasks were made more difficult because they were always flipping and flapping about. She couldn’t even write a letter without catching a sleeve in ink. She much preferred her wool kirtles, simple but functional, in plain shades of dove and ash and steel. Dresses of her girlhood in Winterfell. Dresses that belonged to Lyanna _Stark_ , she thought fondly as she traced her fingers over the embroidered wolves dancing along the seams of her gowns.

Lyanna was overcome with a smug satisfaction every time she caught Robert’s eye when he saw her about the castle, looking every inch the Stark. His thick black brows would rise up for a quick moment before they knit together and his lips would pinch as he tried to hold back his frown. He wanted her to be his delicate lady wife, to wear his colors and to bear his sons. To obeys his commands and call him ‘My Lord.’ Lyanna would never be that kind of wife, could never be. If she accepted the Baratheon name without a fight, it would be like dying. Lyanna Stark would cease to exist. And that would not happen, not so long as she could help it.

But Robert could be stubborn as well, Lyanna quickly found out. Just last week, he brought it upon himself to redecorate her solar with a new tapestry. A stag and a wolf together in a snowy forest. It was a sight better than what was there previous, but fool, didn’t he realize why she’d taken down the others? As she had with the rest, she pulled this one down and given it to Renly, who never seemed to have enough. When he realized that no tapestry he ever gifted her hung for more than a week in her solar, he changed his tactics. He’d hang the tapestries in nearly every hall and he made sure to address her as ‘Lady Baratheon’ loudly and often. It felt like she couldn’t turn around without being confront by some deer or another.

 

+

 

Six months into her marriage, and Lyanna had rather successfully kept her promise to herself. She managed to keep her Stark identity, despite many attempts to the contrary. But the night Robert stormed into her chambers, Lyanna could tell immediately that she had gone too far. It was all good fun to play these games when it was only them, but she should’ve known better than to try anything during the Prince’s visit. Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia were going to be arriving at Storm’s End any day now, a short detour on their way to Dorne. The entire household had been able to talk of little else since Robert received the letter from his cousin. The kitchen staff had sent out to prepare for a feast and the maids had been scouring the guest chambers clean. Little Renly had been asking anybody who would listen if the Prince was going to be bringing a dragon with him, no matter how many times Stannis and Maester Cressen told him all the dragons were dead. As for Lyanna, Robert had sent her a seamtress to have a new dress made, but when Lyanna had seen the bolts gold and black, she’d sent the woman away. No doubt, she’d gone back and told Robert, which is why she found him in her chambers now.

“My lady,” he said, voice carefully restrained, but only just. “I just spoke with the seamstress about your dress…”

“You are too generous, my lord. I have so many dresses already. I’ll just wear that to the feast,” she said, gesturing to where her gown was laid out. Silver damask layered over white silk skirts, to say nothing of the snarling direwolves chasing each other around the neckline. It was perfectly appropriate attire to meet a prince in.

But when Robert glanced over it and his face grew that shade of red she loved to inspire, she knew he disagreed. “You will not shame me in front of Prince Rhaegar. You’re Lady Baratheon now, damn it. It wouldn’t kill you to act the part!” He shoved a bundle into her arms before marching out, slamming her door behind him.

When he was gone, Lyanna unfolded what he’d given her. A dress worthy of a Baratheon lady. It was beautiful, she couldn’t deny that, and the cut was more practical than most of the other southron gowns she owned now. The sleeves were full to the elbow, but restrained from elbow to wrist. The skirts were long and full, though less so than the rest of her dresses and there was a brooch at the hip so they could easily be pulled away. It was truthfully perfect, Lyanna couldn’t have asked for better. And even if it was horrendous, she would have to wear it anyway. That look in his eye tonight, she didn’t know what he’d do, but it was plain that there would be consequences if she showed up to the feast wearing anything else. She spread the dress across her bed and sighed. Perhaps it was time to give up her silly games. It would’ve been impossible to carry on like this for the rest of her life anyway. Eventually, she would have to accept that she wasn’t a Stark anymore.

However, when she smoothed out the sash across the bodice, gold silk stitched with what else but stags, she got an idea. The seamstress had left behind some swathes of fabric and Lyanna was sure she had a needle and thread somewhere. She’d never been enthusiastic about needlework before, but her stitches were always fair and she knew exactly what to do. So carefully she tore the sash away before stretching a new piece of silk over her embroidery hoop and settling into the chair before the fire to work.

 

+

 

When word came of the Prince’s arrival, Lyanna dressed with care. The gown Robert had chosen for her as well as the addition she’d made last night. For hurried stitches done in the dark, the pattern came out well, if she had to admit. She studied the effect in the glass before her and smirked. This suited her very much indeed.

After her maids had finished dressing her hair, she made her way to the hall where they were to greet Robert’s royal cousin. Robert was there before her, standing proud in his velvet doublet of Baratheon colors. Stannis was by his side, gripping Renly by the shoulders lest the boy run off. Lyanna paused at the doorway and took in the sight. The Baratheon brothers, side by side, looking like a matched set. Is it really so wrong of Robert to want his wife to fit in this family portrait? But even if she wanted to, she would always stand out. Her hair wasn’t black and she would never be that tall. She could wear their name and their colors, but she would still be a wolf under it all. Resolved, she smoothed out the sigil across her chest and squared her shoulders before entering the hall.

Robert’s eyes lit when he saw that she was wearing his dress, but when they passed over her chest, he stopped. He wasn’t leering at her as he’s done before, no, he was inspecting the sigil there. The alteration she’d made last night. Instead of Baratheon stags, Lyanna had stitched wolves along the sash, wolves adorned with antlers. A compromise. Robert’s brows knit together when he realized what it was, and for a brief moment, Lyanna worried. Perhaps this was a poor time to be clever. It wasn’t her intention to embarrass him in front of his cousin. And if he lost his temper now—

But to her surprise, Robert laughed. Full-bodied and booming, the sound rang through the hall, the echo making it louder. He bent in half and when he stood up again, there were tears in his eyes.  Of all the possible scenarios, Lyanna never expected Robert to respond like this. “Oh, Lya, my wife,” he said when he finally recovered himself enough to speak. “I will never be able to get the wolf out of you, will I?” He grinned at her, his blue eyes sparkling, and for the first time, Lyanna admitted to herself how handsome he was.

She couldn’t stop herself from smiling back at him. “Never.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow my lyabert blog on [tumblr!](https://allthewolveshaveantlers.tumblr.com)


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